Page 49 of The Guilty One

I answer the call and don’t say anything. We just sit in silence. Wait ’em out. Let ’em sweat.

“Tatum, I know you’re there.”

My brothers are used to this sort of treatment, but only when they deserve it. Which, to be fair, is often.

“Listen, dude, your mom is really upset. I know you’re pissed at us, but don’t take it out on her. Just…just come home, okay? If you want us to leave, we will. But just come home and make up with her. It’s Christmas. She shouldn’t be sad.”

“Why should I?”

“Because she’s your mom.”

“And? Doesn’t give her the right to treat me like shit.”

Dakota sucks in a breath. “You’re right. But maybe, just this once, you could let it go. Like a gift to her.”

I suck my front teeth, thinking. “Yeah, okay. I guess I will.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t think it would be this easy, but I’m bored here now that I’ve gotten what I wanted. I’d rather be home in my own bed than in this stupid dorm.

“Yeah, what the hell, why not?” Without another word, I hang up and start gathering my things. I can’t wait to tell the boys about the Christmas gift I gave myself.

* * *

Back at home, everyone walks on eggshells around me just trying to keep me happy, but I’m on my best behavior. I don’t apologize, but I also don’t make them apologize to me. I hug Mom and pretend everything is peachy, just biding my time.

When Christmas morning rolls around, we all exchange presents, and I give everyone their gift except for Matteo. Nice gifts, too. Expensive ones, while they just give me cheap shit.

Mom buys us all a ton of clothes, but I’m the only one who gets Xbox games too, which is fine by me. Matteo doesn’t say anything about the fact that I skipped right over him when I was passing out my gifts. No one does, in fact, but I can tell they’ve all noticed. The guys slip on their watches from me. They have lion emblems engraved on their undersides to match the tattoos we got. I told them it was to symbolize our brotherhood, our pride.

We’ve known each other since we were young—three and four years old, and all staying in the same foster home. We were split up a few different times, but we always ended up back together like it was some kind of sign. More likely because there were only a few homes that would take teenagers; even fewer that would take rowdy teenagers who were always getting into trouble. And then Lane and Daphne took me in, and a year later, I was adopted. I thought I’d never have to see my brothers again, and then I did when we all agreed to go to the same college. I decided it couldn’t hurt to have people around who would do anything for me.

Then, freshman year, I got tired of looking at the burn scars on my shoulder from one of the deadbeat foster dads and got a tattoo to cover them up. Shocked the shit out of me when they got them out of solidarity.

At least that’s what they said. They probably just wanted to copy me again.

After presents, while Mom and Dad are putting out Christmas breakfast, I find Matteo in his bedroom getting dressed and toss the watch box at him. He stares at it with an odd expression and, once his shirt is down over his head, picks it up.

“Didn’t think I forgot about you, did you?”

“Wasn’t sure,” he says simply. Matteo’s always been the one to give me trouble. If anyone was going to argue with me or attempt to stand up to me, it was him, but I’m about to put him in his place once and for all.

“I got ya something. I just thought you might want to open it up in private. In case you get all weepy and shit.”

“Thanks,” he says, tucking it into his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” I ask, dropping down on his bed.

“I thought you just said I should open it in private.”

“I meant not in front of everyone else. You can open it now, though, and you should.”

His hand taps his pocket. “Why?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do,” I remind him. “And you’re mister manners, aren’t you?”

He wants to roll his eyes or argue. I can see it. I think he’s physically fighting against rolling his eyes, in fact, but he doesn’t. He’s going to keep the peace at all costs.

At least until he sees what I got him.

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